


Hush Now

by ShyOwl



Series: The Fall [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bottom Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Good Boyfriend Steve Rogers, Hints of Unhealthy Relationship, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor AU, Not Canon Compliant, Possessive Tony Stark, Post-Infinity Wars, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Humor, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6827788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyOwl/pseuds/ShyOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he woke up in a scream. Sometimes near sickness. Sometimes he found himself snarling into the darkness, the suit crawling up his arm with a dangerous glow coming from the palm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush Now

The dreams haunted him weekly.

Tony found he missed the days where his nightmares were plagued with suffocating endless space, the cave, or even the lonely time after the Avengers' fallout.

Now, all his dreams dealt with a battlefield cloaked under a massive shadow. It was an unescapable prison of horrors and he was always cemented right in the middle of it. Everywhere he turned were buildings cracked and overturned as dust and fire smoldered everywhere. Bodies of heroes and civilians alike littered the earth, bloodied and silent. There was an army of creatures, some recognizable and some not, crawling all around like hordes of insects as they chittered and grinned over the destruction. And lights from those fucking forsaken stones tried to glare out the sun as the purple-faced bastard laughed.

If only that was all there was to it. Tony could easily find a way to crack a joke about the miserable mess, because really a purple-face villain from space? It was gold mine of self-denial jokes.

But then Steve fell and Tony no longer knew air.

Sometime the nightmares played out earlier in the war than when it happened. It build the moment up like a tsunami like crescendo, ready to rain down pain. He'd see many comrades fighting and screaming as they bravely fought and fell but it never was enough. Tony always knew what was about to happen within the scenes but he could never stop it. Apparently his screwed-up mind enjoyed his suffering at watching it all from the start to the broken end. Usually, though, the visions focused on the single moment of the fall. The focus all on Steve.

Thanos had caught Captain America in his sights at some point; the bastard knew what Steve meant to the Avengers, to the world. Although the young soldier had made his fair share of enemies, and mistakes, so many understood the goodness Steve stood for and how one could just look at him and realize hope was possible.

Thanos had planned on crushing that hope.

During a sneak attack to take him down Steve was pierced by what Tony remembered as sharp, blinding light. It penetrated his broad chest and came out lower where stomach, bowels, and lower spine were. But that wasn't enough brutality to be done to the soldier. It was made worse that the attack had caught Steve in mid-air and so he was hurtled to the ground some thirty feet below him. His body had crunched loudly into the earth and left a large imprint that hissed out ashes.

Captain America did not get up from the hit.

It was enough to make so many in the battlefield take pause. The symbol of everything the Avengers stood for was not standing any more. He was not getting up. Natasha had screamed something, probably Steve's name, while off in the distances Hulk's monstrous roar made the ground tremor. But there was no reaction from the limp blond and the pause broke. Everyone understood it could not last long, there was too much to lose and be won to pick up anyone from the ground. Not even if that someone was Captain America.

Tony, however, did forget everything else around him. He forgot about Thanos, about the infinity stones, about what would happen if they lost. What did any of that matter when Steve Rogers was on the ground?

He had sped towards his fallen comrade, his fallen Steve, and stood over him. Cold chills and numb nausea swarmed over his insides at the sight of the broken body. And like that there was nothing else left in his head; no constant, hyper thinking, endless spirals of self-doubt, or hungry pursuit of life. There was nothing left in him but a small twig of sanity and hope that he could feel snapping by the second as Steve wheezed and shook at his feet.

Memories could become fantasy after this point, once Tony found himself staring at his worst horrors come true. Sometimes Steve was already dead when he arrived, so silent and weak and gone. Sometimes he cracked apart like an old, worn porcelain piece and Tony would feel so much within him cracking along with him. Sometimes Steve blamed him. Sometimes Steve cried like a fearful child as he slipped away. And sometimes the dreams continued playing out as exact memory and sometimes that was worse.

When Tony could finally move the Iron Man’s suit sounded unusually loud as he fell to his knees to pick up the broken body of the blond. He was still alive, still blinking, but his eyes told Tony he knew what was happening. Captain America was rarely unaware of things. And Tony found, as the armor provided him all of Steve’s gruesome vital signs, that he could easily forgive those few things Steve failed to realize.

The red and gold mask was removed and Tony had opened and closed his mouth multiple times but couldn’t figure out what was trying to come out.

Steve just looked at him, bloody and beautiful, and gave him a smile.

“H-Hey.”

Tony said nothing back. His mind could only provide him a panicked mantra of _Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve._

“Tony.” Steve said and smiled some more. “Tony.”

His name wasn’t supposed to sound so heartbreakingly gorgeous right now. How could this bastard say his name like this, now?

“Tony. Look. At me. At me.” His voice was so small. Steve was begging. Tony had only heard that tone twice before. Once for Tony’s life and once for Tony’s forgiveness. He hated it as much now as he did then. “Please. Please…”

Tony did not know what Steve was asking for but he was willing to give it all up to him. If only Steve would answer his own pleas.

_Please don’t take him away from me. Please. Not him. Not my Steve. Steve. Steve. Steve._

Maybe if he tantrumed extra hard something would change. It would have to. Steve always reacted to Tony’s tantrums. The fits usually got things to go his way or at least earn Steve’s attention. He just needed to keep that attention on him.

_Please. Please. Please._

_Steve. Steve. Steve._

His voice still refused to come out.

“You were the best thing,” Steve’s voice gurgled and cracked. “The best thing that I had t-the-the…” his tongue wouldn’t work for him and blood was coming down his nose. “H-Honor of h-having…having in my l-life, Tony.” He smiled as his pretty blues started to cloud with grey and black. “Tony. Love...love Tony. You know that?”

At the time, when it had happened, Tony had been sobbing inconsolably and he couldn’t get his jaw to open.

“I’m sorry.” Steve wheezed and his shattered bones rattled. “I-I couldn’t…I couldn’t make myself a-an honor for you. I-I tried though. Tony. You d-deserve…deserve the best. D-Don’t think other…wise. Only the…the best.” His smile drooped some and his eyes stopped shinning. “Best for Tony…T-Tony.” His last air gasped out of him with Tony’s name.

It went dark afterwards. The nightmares tried to provide some flashes of the aftermath but Tony had no true recollection of what exactly happened after that final, gentle breath. Bruce told him it was a mess and it would probably be better if Tony did not force himself to remember. "Sometimes," Bruce warned in a soft tone, "forgetting is the best way of healing. It's hard, so hard, to see yourself as a someone, rather than a something, after losing control like that."

Bucky, of all people to come to Tony's side, did not believe that. He had told Tony everything that happened; from the moment Steve went still to the days that followed afterwards. Some days Tony regretted his _need to know_ persona because he had to come to terms with a darkness in him he hand't realized was so delicate and overwhelming. How Tony had simply just lost his mind. He had stared down their enemies with absolute wrath and bloodshed in his eyes and everything turned to death. All the suits in Tony's arsenal had appeared and a nuke was unleashed. It blinded and wounded Thanos and gave others the prime opportunity to take him down for good.

But the destruction had not been enough for Tony. Bucky said the billionaire had proceeded to rip apart any of Thanos’ army he could find and could not be stopped until he’d taken down at least twelve of them with his armored hands. That suit still carried the stains from that. 

“It never fully fell silent.” Bucky noted one evening as they shared a beer, weeks after the war. “The moment things stopped shaking and you were somewhat sated you were back at his side. Screaming. You screamed loudly for a few minutes before Thor decided you were never going to get it out and had to drag you away.”

 _That_ was something Tony remembered. How he clawed and bit and hurt, God he had hungered to hurt them all, to get back to Steve. His Steve. How they were trying to take him away from his Steve.

“Finally we had to knock you out. Even a _pop_ ,” Bucky annunciated this term like he was chewing gum, “to the head and it still wasn’t quite enough. A few hours later we had to tranq you. You were under for about four days. Each time you woke up you were still stuck in that moment. You hurt a lot of people, Stark. Of course no fault of your own. Pretty standout how you popped my arm out of the socket without your suit.”

Tony knew he wasn’t a super-human like Bucky or Steve but he was strong and in top physique. Apparently absolute rage was his serum. He’d taken down a task force before Bucky had to be called in. Tony hadn’t stood a chance but he got many hits in before sedated once more.

His hospital room had cameras and Tony had watched the scene only once. It was like he turned into another person. Another creature.

Tony understood Bruce a lot more after watching and he didn’t appreciate the understanding feeling.

“Final time you woke up it was like there was nothing there to you, you know? You were forced to sit up but you just stared at nothing. Haven’t seen many eyes that empty.” Bucky proceeded to use his arm to pop the bottle of another beer open. “We couldn’t get through to you. Course at the time we were afraid to let you know about Steve. We didn’t want your hopes up and then have them crash. Seems like you and crashing is a pretty bad combo.”

Bucky proceeded to tell him that Tony was like that for two more day; stuck in a catatonic state. Fury found there was no choice but to tell Tony and on the second day he was wheeled into the I.C.U. where he came across the horrendous, beautiful sight of Steve in a bed, hooked up to so many tubes, with a heart beat.

A glorious, wonderful heart beat.

“You walked over to him like a zombie and collapsed on top of him without saying anything.”

His dreams only occasionally slipped into those moments and reminded him of the stale smell of the hospital and how those IVs probed his side. Luckily, they rarely dipped into lying territory and told him things other than his Steve alive.It was a small fact he appreciated. Tony had remained in Steve’s room until they were both finally discharged a month later when Steve could move and think clearly and Tony wasn’t in such a poor mental state. It wasn’t until nearly two months later that Steve was returned home where he was on bedrest for a few weeks but he rarely complained. 

So Tony complained for the both of them.

Nothing was good enough for Tony’s Steve. Food was too hot or too unhealthy or too bland. Beds needed far more pillows and sheets with more thread count than necessary. Despite being released to heal at the compound, the compound that Tony owned and designed, it just was not good enough. It was not safe enough.

Steve would scold Tony but, in the end, always let him have his way. Whenever Tony got too out of control Steve would hold his arms out for a hug and Tony would be in them in a second, clinging right back. They would hold each other in silence for a long time and Tony’s mind could find some minor peace cuddled up with his Steve.

It had been nearly a solid year since Thanos and The Fall, as Tony could only describe it most days, and he still didn’t feel better. Most days he felt worse. He’d catch himself digging his nails into Steve’s arm when he felt the man was walking too far away. He’s learned how to destroy punching bags with his arms and fist alone. His fingers itched to create another bubble, just for Steve, despite the consequences Ultron had provided.

And the dreams, God, the dreams. 

They wished to completely forego that Steve was alive. That he was at Tony’s side almost twenty-four hours every day. That Steve made the best breakfast and sweets but the worst pasta. The dreams made him forget that they crawled in bed together every night, kissing and sharing breath while whispering, “I love you, God I love you, I love you” as Tony would push himself into Steve. That they laughed and argued and flirted and could still do that any time they wanted.

The dreams always wanted to remind him that he nearly lost all of it. That had things been just slightly different Steve would be buried and Tony probably along with him.

It just enjoyed reminding him.

Steve falling. Steve hitting the ground. Steve bleeding. Steve saying a love confession that made Tony ill in his heart. And then Steve pulled far, far away. Tony just could not reach him. His suit wasn’t working…it wouldn’t take him to his Steve. Thanos was laughing and closing in. He pressed his large gloved hand on Steve’s smaller, broken body.

“Crunch, crunch.” Thanos said but in a voice that Tony knew didn’t belong to him. But that didn’t matter as the _crunch_ Thanos promised penetrated his brain. 

Sometimes he woke up in a scream. Sometimes near sickness. Sometimes he found himself snarling into the darkness, the suit crawling up his arm with a dangerous glow coming from the palm.

Tonight he was lost, staring in the darkness, panting. His throat felt raw so, perhaps, he did scream…that was the most normal of reaction. That and sobbing.

_God why wouldn’t they stop?_

_Steve. Steve. Steve._

Movement to his right instantly made his heart speed lessen as Steve shifted a bit.

“Hey.” Steve looked at him and rubbed sleep from his eyes. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah.” Tony just stared at him. He counted how many times those blond lashes fluttered and the chest rose and fell. He could slowly feel the feverish visions ink out of his brain. The remains were still spilling over his mind but it was not as strong now. He could think and see reality and it that it was something beautiful.

Steve’s arms wrapped tightly around him and snuggled in close. Tony began to stroke his hair, his fingers tingling with feeling. _He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive._

“Wanna just stay in bed or you want another midnight breakfast of my banana pancakes?” Steve said with that smile, that comforting, alive smile, and gave Tony’s firm stomach a pat.

Tony wasn’t sure what he would do without this man. This understanding, know the right thing to say man.

“Not sure if I can handle food at the moment, dollface.”

Steve’s fingers softly danced over Tony’s arm and shoulder. “Too bad. You know I make a mean pancake.”

Tony laughed a little but it felt choked. “Yeah, I know you do. I’ll for sure take some in the morning.”

“Ok, then why don’t you get back next to me and relax?” 

“I will.” Tony promised. It felt like he was still trembling and when he blinked he saw an after-image of Steve’s face with blood covering it and his eyes closed. Perhaps it hadn't dripped out of him completely just yet. 

Steve was silent for a moment then poked his side; right where he knew Tony was the most ticklish. It earned him a smack on the shoulder. “You positive no pancakes? I think you’re losing weight.”

“And that’s a cause for concern?” Tony hadn’t meant to worry Steve.

“I don’t want you to lose your abs. They’re the best part of you.” Steve teased.

“Oh, well then, I certainly can’t lose my best feature. Though I still think it’s my adorable wit and this fashion forward goatee.” Slowly Tony felt his bones melt and he crawled on top of him. “And unless these pancakes you’re obsessed with are a horrible innuendo for that glorious ass of yours, no.” He nuzzled into Steve’s neck. “I want to cover you up from the world until time stops.”

Steve grinned, “Just cover me up?”

“Well,” Tony’s thumbs played with Steve’s hips. “Eventually there will be far more than that. All that talk about pancakes, _ooh_ ,” he forced a shudder. “You know that gets me going.”

“Oh? Well then, I can’t wait to see what I get out of you when you hear I’ve started to really perfect the fryer. My donuts are glorious now.”

“Now that is a horrible innuendo.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Stark?” Steve grinned and wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck.

Tony appeared to be in deep thought, “Do I wish to know if my gorgeous boyfriend, with a glorious ass, is talking about donuts, the fried goodness to my very soul, or his own donut?” He reached down and squeezed Steve’s behind. “It’s not like it’s a win-win situation, so, no, why on earth would I ever want to know the answer?”

“You’re an ass.” Steve bumped his forehead against the brunette’s. “A perverted ass.”

Tony responded by hungrily kissing him.

He did not deserve this man, this wonderful, glorious, alive man. But he’d never let him go. Not when he kept offering midnight breakfasts and kisses after nightmares. Not when he had sacrificed to Tony’s paranoid demands. Not when he did everything to make Tony so goddamn happy and complete.

His Steve.

“Now look at what you did.” Tony pulled back and shimmied his hips a bit. “Not-So-Little Tony is all up and ready.”

Steve laughed. “I thought the idea of your favorite food would get me brownie points.”

Tony groaned. “Now brownies? You’re killing me, baby.”

“Your fault you gave up your biggest weakness. Really, I think I should hold back some. Your sugar consumption is worrisome.”

“Didn’t you just complain I was losing weight?”

“A diet of potato-chips and donuts doesn’t necessarily mean great health, Tony.”

“Tell you what, cause I am an amazing, generous lover, I’ll compromise. I promise to only eat hamburgers tomorrow. Burger King best.” Tony held up his hand to show his honor.

Steve shook his head; “I swear I’ll get you to eat a whole salad one day.”

“As long as it’s between some buns and meat, you got it babe.” Tony moved his hands to cup and squeeze Steve’s bum. “And I mean that in so many nasty ways.”

“You’re a perverted moron.”

“And yet,” Tony tilted his head and gave Steve a smirk, “you’re letting me grope you. Kettle black, sweetheart.”

“Mhm-hmm,” Steve’s hands trailed up and down Tony’s arms. “You better?”

“A bit.” Tony felt his grin fall to a smile and he placed his head on Steve’s shoulder, blanketing the larger man. 

Steve continued to gently touch and soothe Tony. Steve’s calloused hands felt wonderful against Tony’s skin and he never wanted the man to stop. The movement was everything he needed and he nuzzled as far as he could against Steve’s warm body.

That heartbeat was the most perfect lullaby. Tony could easily forget about his erection. He just wanted his Steve under him, safe, and breathing.

Tony closed his eyes and let Steve spoil him with attention. He would fall back asleep any time soon, not when that _crunch, crunch_ still digging into the bones of his spine.

“I’m still up for making pancakes.” Steve noted.

“You’re nothing but burning calories.” Tony pinched Steve’s thigh. “Of course you want food.”

The pretty blond just grinned toothily. “I can’t help that I made myself hungry.”

“I still think Not-So-Little Tony needs attention first.” Tony poked Steve’s nose.

“What if I promise you can use the syrup however you want?” Steve’s brow tilted up all coy and he tried hard to keep an innocent face. “You know…on the pancakes…on the side…somewhere else…”

“God, you speak my language so well.” Tony kissed him again and dragged him out of bed and to the kitchen. “Hurry up, I want that syrup.”

Steve laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Of course, anything you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am only familiar with the MCU-Avengers, so I took a lot of liberties with the Infinity Wars coming out. I just wanted some Hurt-Steve and Protective/Possessive Tony to help with the pain of Civil War. All-in-all, just a quick think of slightly angsty-fluff to give me my jump into the Stony-groove!


End file.
